


Seven

by starryskeyess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryskeyess/pseuds/starryskeyess
Summary: A sheith love story inspired by 'Seven' from Taylor Swift's album Folklore.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 43





	Seven

**Author's Note:**

> Folklore / Evermore have me eternally in my feels. This is an edited thread from Twitter. Chat with me there @/starryskeyes !!

The cold bites into Keith’s bones as he walks through the woods. Twigs snap under his feet sharply, brittle with frost. The path is as familiar to him as his own face, and a much more welcome sight.

He can see the narrow trail wind before him, the earth was packed by little feet, not that long ago, running and laughing. He can almost see himself at five years old, fighting to keep pace with Shiro’s long legs. Keith’s growth spurt had come late, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and stubbornness.

Keith had found the spot first, a small clearing in a smattering of woods. The tiny forest lay between both their houses, at the foot of a small mountain. Keith had been protective of the space he’d found. A small creek, bubbling with mountain snow runoff, trees perfect for climbing. There was even one tree, one with this _perfect_ branch, protruding out over the creek just begging to be tied to a swing.  
One day Shiro had been there, playing in _Keith's_ place. Keith hovered at the edge of the clearing, watching from the shadows of the trees as Shiro wandered through the space.

The other boy was tall, gangly, running curious fingers over the soft moss coating tree branches.

When Keith was brave enough to step forward, to make himself known, Shiro stopped dead in his tracks.

His entire face just _lit up._

"I'm Shiro," he had said, flashing Keith a wide, toothy smile, "Do you want to play with me?"

And it was that simple. Keith couldn’t resist Shiro's wide, kind eyes, or his ears he hadn’t quite grown into. Shiro made goodness look as easy as breathing, and Keith had never met another kid like him. 

They played and played. The clearing wasn't just a small creek in a smaller forest, it was wherever they wanted it to be. A ship hurtling through outer space, a castle in need of defending from a dragon.

It was _home._

Despite his longer legs and extra year of life, Shiro couldn't always keep up. He got tired easily, Keith had noticed, though he never said anything about it. He waited patiently whenever Shiro needed to stop, to catch his breath. 

Shiro taught him patience. And hope.

Shiro was endlessly kind, full of hope for the future despite everything. Keith marveled at how much faith Shiro always had, in his recovery, in the future, in Keith. 

Keith can’t fight the smile creeping across his lips at the memory, at Shiro’s confidence and instant acceptance of everything that Keith was. Shiro didn't seem to realize just how incredible he was, and Keith never found the right words to tell him.

So they played. 

Shiro helped him build that swing. It was perfect, carefully crafted with sturdy rope and a plank of wood. Keith's dad had helped him make it, teaching Keith how to loop the rope over the tree branch so the swing would hang just right. They made each other dizzy spinning in the swing. On Keith's birthday that year, Shiro spun him nine times, one for each year of his life.

Keith tried to return the favor in a couple months, and Shiro insisted he didn't have a birthday that year. He was a leap year baby, he said. 'A little miracle,' according to his parents. But the words came out laced with something almost like bitterness, and for the first time that Keith could remember, Shiro didn't seem so hopeful.

Keith spun him 10 times that year anyway. 

That summer, catching their breaths after an intense chase to catch a particularly slippery lizard, Shiro needed another break. Keith sat with him, both of them dipping their toes into the creek and letting the water run over their feet, and Shiro talked. 

Shiro told him he was sick. Told him he didn’t remember ever _not_ being sick. Shiro told Keith he knew his parents were good people, who loved him very much. That they were just so afraid of losing him, they kept him close. 

And Keith understood then, that the clearing was something more to Shiro, too. It was _freedom._ It was climbing trees, and skinned knees, and adventure. It was everything Shiro had never had, everything he’d been denied in his parents journey to keep him safe. 

Despite all of his parents' best intentions, Shiro didn’t feel _safe._ He felt caged in, smothered by someone else’s fear and kept away from the world. His parents told him he was something precious, special, but he had only ever wanted to be normal. 

“Why would you want to be normal?” Keith had asked. “You’re perfect as you are, Shiro.”

The smile Shiro gave him then was brilliant, a blinding sun Keith couldn’t make himself look away from, even if it hurt. 

Summers were for the stars. Keith lost count of how many hours they spent, shoulder to shoulder, gazing up at the night sky. Shiro showed him the constellations, and while they never looked like anything but stars to him, Shiro brought them to life. 

He told Keith the story behind each formation, and they played out the myths and legends. Shiro let Keith play the hero, even though he was a terrible villain himself, leaving Keith laughing more often than intimidated. Even playing as a bloodthirsty pirate, Shiro was kind. He couldn’t help it. 

Keith’s dad died when he was ten. He was so hurt, so _angry._ It didn’t matter that his father had saved people, that he’d been a hero, that his death was _noble._ He was still gone. 

He didn’t leave the clearing for two days. Keith’s mom wasn’t worried, she always knew where to find him. On the second night, she found them both there, cuddled up in the gnarled roots of that perfect tree. Keith had cried himself to sleep, and Shiro never left, despite his parents’ insistence. He stayed, arms wrapped tight around Keith’s shoulders, flashing Keith’s mom a tiny smile as she wrapped a blanket around them both. She ran gentle fingers through Keith's hair, leaving a thermos full of soup next to Shiro with a finger pressed to her lips. She’d kissed both their foreheads before she left. 

Keith knows he was different after that. Smiling took more effort, and sometimes he just felt _so much,_ he didn’t know what to do with it all. At his therapists’ suggestion, he took up drawing. There was something cathartic about creating something beautiful that he could hold in his hands, something Keith hadn’t known he was capable of. His favorite subject to draw was always Shiro, but the other boy was always in motion, always a little blurry at the edges. 

On Shiro’s twelfth birthday, Keith went all out. He decorated the clearing, enlisting his mom’s help to string cheap lights through the tree branches. He even made a cupcake, decorating it with painstaking effort. They stayed out late, until the stars glittered overhead. 

Keith spun Shiro in the swing as fast as he could, counting to twelve, while Shiro shrieked, "But I'm only three!"

"Gross, Shiro!" Keith had shouted back, laughing wildly, "I don't hang out with three year olds!" 

Shiro got better, then he got so much worse. He lost his arm the next year, and despite his warnings, Keith got worried when he didn't come to the clearing. Shiro had said it would be a few weeks before he could play again, that he needed time to heal and to make sure they didn’t need any more surgery. 

So he made his way through the other side of the woods, to Shiro's backyard. He could see NASA posters through a second floor window, a smattering of glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.

And he could see Shiro, looking out at the real stars. His arm was bandaged, and despite knowing, it still left Keith reeling to see _nothing_ where his arm had been. A hand that had pulled Keith along, dueled with swords made from snapped off branches.

Shiro didn't notice him, too busy searching for something in the night sky to look down. But Keith stayed comforted by the knowledge that Shiro, _his_ Shiro, was still there. 

High school pulled them apart, as it tends to do. Shiro’s illness got better, enough that his parents let him go to school. He came bursting into the clearing the day before school started to tell Keith the good news, and the sun glinted off of his new prosthetic. 

Shiro's joy was infectious, and it was impossible for Keith not to be happy for him. Later that night, alone and back at home, he could admit to himself he was scared. Scared of losing his best friend, once Shiro realized how many better people there were out there. 

Keith had been his only option, but he knew Shiro wouldn't choose him forever.

Shiro hit another growth spurt sophomore year. He finally grew into his gangly legs, and his goofy ears, and Keith realized something else. Shiro was /beautiful./ 

He always had been, really, but Keith appreciated it differently now. He found himself admiring lines of Shiro’s body, the way he seemed to shine in the sun. His smile was bright, and the warmth that suffused through Keith at the sight of it was something new, something more intense than he’d ever felt. 

By the time Keith realized how in love he was, it was too late. 

Shiro graduated a year early, two years before Keith. He was brilliant, and home schooling had allowed him to learn at his own pace, which was much faster than it would have been in public school. Keith wasn't surprised, Shiro had always pushed harder than he had to, always wanting to be better, stronger. To reach goals others would think are impossible. 

That was the first year Shiro didn’t come to the clearing for Keith's birthday, or his own. Even during the holidays, somehow he and Keith, they kept missing each other. But the day after Christmas, Keith finds a tidily wrapped present sitting in the swing, adorned with a tiny red bow. 

There's no note, but Keith knows who it's from.

A new sketchbook and pencils, much nicer than Keith can afford, lay under the wrapping paper. When Keith flipped open the sketchbook that night, the first thing he drew was Shiro. 

When Shiro came home for the summer, Keith couldn't wait. He bypassed their spot completely, crossing the forest to get to Shiro's house. He wasn't going to miss him again.

When Keith got there, he wished he would have never left the safety of the clearing. He found Shiro, somehow even taller and broader than before, arms wrapped around someone else. Shiro was laughing, then dipping his head down towards the other man's face.

Keith turned on his heel and left before he could see what happened next. 

-

Keith couldn't make himself return to the clearing. He knew it was a coward's choice, to avoid Shiro instead of talking to him, but he just _couldn't._ His throat felt tight at the thought of The logical part of him could acknowledge that Shiro didn't do anything wrong, and he didn't deserve to be abandoned by Keith. 

But Keith felt abandoned, too.

When his mom asked him about moving, leaving the sleepy mountain town behind them, Keith agreed without an argument. He could see the concern at his instant compliance in the way her eyes narrowed, but she didn't ask him to explain. 

Keith found Shiro in the clearing the afternoon before they moved, letting his toes drag against the fallen leaves on the ground as he swung. His smile was tender, and a little sad, when he saw Keith crossing the creek. The sadness only grew when he heard what Keith came to say. 

"We're moving, Shiro," Keith said. He'd never had any subtlety, and he knew the words were blunt. He hated himself for the way Shiro's face fell. "Mom got a new job, and without Dad here there's really nothing... left for us, I guess." 

It didn't soothe his hurt the way he thought it would, seeing the pain in Shiro's eyes that mirrored his own. It just hurt more. Regardless, Shiro hugged him tight before he left, accepting the letter Keith slipped into his trembling hands wordlessly. 

"Love you to the moon and to Saturn," the letter said. "Don't forget about me when you're among the stars."

Keith walked away from the clearing with heavy steps, despite feeling like he'd left a part of him behind. 

Keith moved on, went to college. He majored in Fine Arts, paved out a humble but honest living for himself. Even if he had wanted to forget Shiro, had _tried_ to, the world wouldn't let him. 

Takashi Shirogane, the youngest astronaut to pilot a mission to Mars. Shiro's smiling face was everywhere he looked, beautiful and devastating.

Despite how much it hurt to see his face, Keith couldn't help feel deliriously happy for Shiro.

He did it. He made it out there, to fly through the stars, the place of myth and magic and adventure.

Shiro deserved that. 

The launch was way too early in the morning, Keith's time, but he set an alarm just to watch it. Even the gut punch he felt every time the coverage panned to Shiro's boyfriend's face couldn't temper his pride. Today was about Shiro, and only Shiro.

Sitting in his small studio apartment, clutching a steaming cup of coffee like it's a life raft, Keith watched Shiro leave the earth. He watched Shiro's dream come true on a lagging internet stream. Even though they hadn't talked in years, Earth felt different without Shiro on it. Empty, but somehow stifling.

Keith spent more time than he would ever admit checking for updates over the 3 year long trip. The trip is an exploration, collecting samples and taking pictures, sending back data that just might pave the way for the next mission. And the next. It’s a part of history, a page in future history books, slipped in between pages full of household names. 

One of the pictures they sent back is a selfie, Shiro and his engineers. Shiro's hair had grown out, he had it pulled back into a ridiculous pony tail at the top of his head. His smile was ethereal, even though it’s lit with artificial lights from inside the ship. 

If Keith saved the selfie to his computer, and his phone, nobody needs to know.

The return to Earth was flawless. Keith watched with bated breath as Shiro guided the craft back to the ground, landing to the chorus of a cheering crowd. Something settled in Keith, seeing Shiro fly back to the surface. Something that made him realize how deeply he missed Shiro, how he felt like he was the one missing his right arm. A whole piece of him, traveling to the stars, and Keith had been too stubborn and hurt to be there when he came back. 

The next February comes, bringing cold weather and overpriced candy, and Keith books a plane ticket back to that little town. And now, early on the morning of the 29th, is when he finds himself back in the woods, both familiar and achingly different.

Keith can hear the creaking of the swing as he nears the clearing. He wonders if a family bought their old house, if their kids discovered the magic he'd found with Shiro, a lifetime ago. He hopes that magic lived on. 

When Keith finally reaches the clearing he does see someone on the swing. Someone tall, shoulders barely fitting between the narrow ropes that hold him aloft. The rope creaks again, the sound loud in the soft quiet of the early morning, and the person spins to face Keith.

_Shiro._

Shiro sees him at the same time, and Keith can see his own name on Shiro’s lips. Just like that day, twenty years ago, Keith steps forward shyly.

Shiro looks different. His hair is even longer now, pulled into a messy knot at the back of his head. Keith comes closer, pulling his coat tight around his body. His hands are balled in his pockets, against the cold and the urge to reach out and touch Shiro, make sure he’s real, and not just some vision that Keith willed into existence. 

When he gets closer he can still see the bits and pieces of his childhood friend. His ears are still just a little too big, even if he’s grown out of most of his teenage awkwardness. Time couldn’t touch the kindness of his eyes. Shiro smiles at him and it’s not the wide grin of his youth, but something fragile and infinitely more tender.

“Keith,” he says, and Keith feels the rasp of his voice like a balm to the soul. “Do you want to play with me?” 

Shiro lifts his legs in the air, letting himself sway on the swing as Keith laughs. The laugh catches him by surprise, bright and warm. He moves to Shiro’s back, pressing his palms to the blades of Shiro’s shoulders and giving him a gentle push. Shiro’s so much more solid than Keith remembers. Heavier, too. He says as much and Shiro laughs, swinging an arm blindly behind himself on his next swing back, but Keith dodges easily. 

“I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” Keith says, and the clearing is quiet again, save for the steady creaking of the rope. Shiro’s breath puffs out in visible clouds, streaming behind him like the smoke trail of an airplane. 

“It’s my birthday today,” Shiro says, as if that answers the question that hangs unasked between them. And, Keith supposes, it’s a kind of answer. It’s why Keith is here, too.

“I know that,” Keith says, pushing Shiro more gently this time, and letting him slow to a stop.

“Of course you did,” Shiro says, and Keith isn’t sure if he’s talking to anyone in particular, “You always remembered.”

Shiro's voice is thoughtful, and a little distant.

"Is everything okay?" Keith asks, resting a hand softly against Shiro's shoulder. 

"Yeah," Shiro answers, and he lays his own hand over Keith's squeezing briefly, "I've just been thinking."

"About?"

"Where to go from here, I guess," Shiro says. He lifts his feet up again, letting himself rock forward. 

"Yes, must be a very difficult decision for the world's favorite astronaut," Keith says, pushing Shiro gently again, "What should I do with all this fame and glory?"

Shiro just hums, not responding to Keith's gentle ribbing. The silence is heavy with all of the years they've spent apart, words left unsaid.

"Shiro, really, are you okay?" Keith asks, "This has been your dream since... well, forever. But you don't seem happy." 

Shiro sighs. "Adam, my... well, he doesn't want me to go again."

"Oh." Keith can't find any more words, at least not any that will be helpful to Shiro in this moment. 

“I’ve been healthy so far, but there’s always a chance things could change, and fast,” Shiro says, and the words are flat, even, “He didn’t think another mission was the best use of ‘the time I have left.’”

Keith does stop pushing him then, spinning Shiro to face him. Anger simmers up hot inside him, but Shiro doesn’t need fury on his behalf, he needs support. And Keith always wants to be what Shiro needs. Keith leans down until he and Shiro are eye to eye, not letting Shiro look away.

"Shiro, when have you ever let anything get in the way of your dreams? Don't start now."

Shiro blinks at Keith slowly, then his lips twist into a slow, wistful smile. It's a little crooked, and a little sad, and all Shiro.

"I didn't. I left him."

"Oh."

_Eloquent, Kogane./_

The silence now is charged with something new, and Keith realizes just how close he's leaned towards Shiro. He can see the individual lashes framing Shiro's gunmetal gray eyes, casting delicate shadows across his cheekbones. 

Stepping back abruptly, Keith grins at Shiro wickedly.

“How many spins is it this year, Shiro?” Keith asks, gripping the rope hard with both hands. He spins it in one direction, dodging Shiro’s legs where they swing out towards him, “Twenty eight?” 

“Hey!” Shiro yells, but he’s laughing and gripping the swing for dear life as the world tilts around him. “No! I’m only seven!” But Keith keeps spinning him, until they’re both weak with laughter. There’s something about laughing like this that makes Keith feel light, like he really is seven, feral and _free_ and inextricably tied to his partner in crime. 

He loses count around sixteen and on one pass, Shiro reaches out an arm to grab him, arresting his own motion and making Keith stumble with the force of the impact, barely keeping them both upright. 

Shiro is still laughing and Keith’s dazed by the sight. He barely notices the way they’re tangled together in a mess of limbs, he can’t keep his eyes off of Shiro’s face. He’s perfect, still, his smile is warm and bright, and there’s something familiar in his eyes.

Hope. 

“Keith,” Shiro says again, untangling one hand to run gentle fingers along Keith’s jaw. His eyes flit across Keith’s features, like he’s trying to take in all of him, to commit him to memory. They move closer, inevitably, like two celestial bodies colliding in each others’ orbit. Shiro’s lips are warm where they press against Keith’s, the heat of a crackling fire on a cold winter’s day.

_Home._

Keith melts into the kiss, lets Shiro hold him up where he rests in the swing. Shiro's fingers slide into his hair, cradling his head like he's something sacred. Something treasured. 

Keith fights back a whimper at the tenderness. When their lips part, Shiro doesn't let him go far, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'm sorry," Shiro whispers, into the space where their breath mingles in the winter air, "I'm sorry it took me so long." 

"So long?" Keith can't keep the soft laugh out of his voice, as he leans in to kiss him again,"Shiro, you're only seven."


End file.
